


The Gambler

by MelodiousPoison



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gratuitous Smut, Lapdance, M/M, Prompt Fic, Twerking, not really smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 01:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14125146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodiousPoison/pseuds/MelodiousPoison
Summary: “One mustn’t cheat. After all, the burnt have excellent ways of giving retribution.”AKA A lapdance/twerking prompt I had stolen away to mess around with.





	The Gambler

**Author's Note:**

> I was given Pop Rock - Brooke Candy for the song Will uses.
> 
> I am absolutely sure my writing does not match up but I hope you enjoy regardless.

Will sways lazily around the chair, his curls stuck against his slowly sticky warm head, clothes, a sloppy disarray across his increasingly reddening skin. He felt warm, a rich and dark, that was brought upon by both alcohol and the watchful man in the seat with eyes that never stray far from him.

 

“Hanniballlllllllll,” Will’s voice carries at the end as he lurches forward in front of the armchair. Next, his fingers curl into the arms of the seat, barricading the man. Alcohol burns through his system, energising him from any doubts he had in sobriety, enjoying the power it gave him. Using it, he openly stares into the enrichened dark gaze of Hannibal’s. Will smiles, both otherworldly and predatory stirring Hannibal’s own beast from the depths of lazed relaxation.

 

“Will, you’re quite drunk and aren’t capable of –” he comments, politeness to the last with only a drop of regret colouring his tone. Before he could continue chiding, Will silences him with his lips. Red liquid infused with the sweetness of Will’s tongue, and Hannibal tastes him beneath it all and found only wanting. He breathes in deeply, his throat drying at the impact of having Will in such a state, eyes dilated, his lips begging to be bitten. Will pulls back little, his lips wettened and Hannibal stares admiringly at their work.

 

“Just- shut up,” Will says before he tugs away further, one of his hands pushing clumsily into his pocket. As he moves back, Hannibal instinctively moves forward in tune with his partner always, ready to capture if he should fall. Will can’t help but snort, his teeth gnawing playfully on his lips before he opens his phone. Hannibal will be the one in need of saving. 

 

He whisks his phone, coordination still compromised in his tipsy state, but he manages it to find it somewhere in a list of his time from those ‘lessons’ Margot gave him. Tossing his phone after a declarative tap, the phone thankfully lands on a nearby sofa, coming to life with the song playing. 

 

He loosens his tie, awkwardly unbuttoning the first few, a brief chill ghosting across his exposed throat. Any complaints Hannibal would have raised (about the music nonetheless) vanish when Will turns and begins to back up into him. Just before they were scarcely apart.

 

“No touching Hanniii,” Will says at an attempt of coyness but it is belayed with the last hints of nerved tension. Hannibal hums mildly in response, trying his best to hide his mildly aroused curiosity in what Will was planning to do. 

 

Will begins with leaning forward, his hands resting on his knees. Face heating up with the mixture of exertion, and bashfulness he begins to move his rear to the music, firm and bouncing just above Hannibal. 

 

Hannibal leans back in response, his hips almost raising instinctively to be as close to the oddly alluring movement. As Will continues and loosens, that’s when it begins to stir heavy in Hannibal’s mind; “You enjoy this darling boy, don’t you?” 

 

Hannibal’s voice caresses across a raising Will’s spine while he pulls himself upwards sending a warm trilling tingle following upwards as he dreamily confesses; “Hmmmmm, per-haps.”

 

It was egotistical to assume one Will Graham could ever affect Hannibal Lecter, but he knew. He knew it in the way Hannibal shifts himself, micro expressions all directed towards him, repressed in the way his breath came out as Will continues jostling his rear just barely not touching. He knew he was wanted, that he could do ask absolutely anything, and he was denying him the chance to.

 

With that, came the shift palpable shift in energy, Will relaxes while Hannibal stiffens, the brimming confidence Will had the more he was affected.

 

Hannibal hated nothing more than to not touch the firm yet plush behind that moved in intoxicating bounding movements. Instead, his own fingers rest in the place Will had his before and digs in, his hair becoming askew over his ever-darkening eyes. 

 

He looks at him menacingly when Will leans back and begins to slide his pants down revealing he wore nothing beneath, but the bruises and bites Hannibal had placed on him the previous night. All politeness fades and he growls compromisingly, what a scoundrel his dear Will was. All Will does is laugh breathlessly above him just before he slows down into a lazy spiral before resting on him as the music fades out.

 

In the silence of the new song coming on, Hannibal quickly constricts his lover against him;  
“One mustn’t cheat. After all, the burnt have excellent ways of giving retribution.”

 

Will flings his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder breathless, giddy and alive, his length already hardening at the thought of such a punishment;  
“I like my odds.”


End file.
